Original subtitles

By the centre, quick march!

(MARCHING MUSIC PLAYING)

Eyes right!

Eyes right!

You'd like to book a table for three by the window for 9:30 p.m.

not too near the band in the name of Oberleutnant von Genschler?

Yes, yes, I think you might have the wrong number...

That's all right.

Another crossed line, eh, sir? That phone system is a shambles.

No wonder we haven't had any orders.

On the contrary, George, we've had plenty of orders.

We've had orders for six metres

of Hungarian crushed velvet curtain material.

Four rock salmon and a ha'p'orth of chips.

And a cab for a Mr Redgrave picking up from 14 Arnos Grove.

"Ring top bell."

Yes, but we don't want those sort of orders.

We want orders to death or glory.

When are we going to give Fritz a taste of our British spunk, hmm?

George, please.

No one is more anxious to advance than I am,

but until I get these communication problems sorted out,

I'm afraid we're stuck.

(PHONE RINGS)

Captain Blackadder speaking.

No, I'm afraid the line's very...

(IMITATES STATIC)

Hello? Hello? Captain Blackadder? Hello?

(YELLING IN GERMAN)

I said, there's a terrible line at my end.

You are to advance on the enemy at once.

(BLOWING RASPBERRY)

(SINGING) # A wandering minstrel, I... #

(IMITATING FREQUENCY TUNING)

Gale force eight imminent.

What's it? Come on, sir, what's the message?

I'm on tenterhooks, do tell.

As far as I can tell, the message was,

"He's got a terrible lion up his end,

"so there's an advantage to an enema at once."

Damn!

Message from HQ, sir.

Ah, now this will be it. A telegram ordering an advance?

Hmm. Yes, I'm afraid not, George. It is a telegram.

It is ordering an advance but it seems to be addressed to someone called

Cat-pain Black-udder.

Do you know a Cat-pain Black-udder, George?

Well, it rings a bell, but no.

No, me neither.

Oh, well.

Don't worry, George.

I'm sure if they want to contact us, they'll find a way.

Pigeon, sir. Pigeon. There's a pigeon in our trench.

Ah, now this'll be it.

Yes, it's one of the King's carrier pigeons.

No, it isn't. That pigeon couldn't carry the King.

He hasn't even got a tray or anything.

Lieutenant, revolver please.

Oh, now, sir! You really shouldn't do this you know.

Come on, George. With 50,000 men getting killed a week,

who's going to miss a pigeon?

Well, not you, obviously, sir.

In any case, it's scarcely a court martial offence.

Get plucking, Baldrick.

All right, sir. Look!

It's got a little ring around it's leg. There's a novelty.

Oh, really. Is there a paper hat as well?

No, but there's a joke. Read it out, sir.

Well it's a bit charred, there's a...

"Something, something at once."

"PS. Due to communication crisis the shooting of carrier pigeons

"is now a court martial offence." (LAUGHS)

I don't see what's funny about that, sir.

It's not funny. It's deadly serious. We're in trouble.

So, I shall eat the evidence for lunch.

And If anyone asks you any questions at all,

we didn't receive any messages

and we definitely did not shoot this delicious, plump-breasted pigeon.

Mmm.

Delicious!

Hey! Blackadder! Attention.

And why, Captain, are you not advancing across no man's land?

Well, sir, call me a bluff old traditionalist,

but I was always taught to wait for the order to attack. Before attacking.

Are you trying to tell me you haven't received any orders?

What the hell are you playing at, Darling?

That's a blatant lie, sir.

I spoke to Blackadder less than an hour ago.

Yes, you did. To tell me some gobbledy-gook

about having a lion up your bottom.

Hmm, as I thought,

It's the old communications problem again. Stand easy.

Action on this is imperative,

- Take that down, Darling. - Yes, sir.

Also make a note of the word "gobbledy-gook". I like it.

I want to use it more often in conversation.

I must say, sir, I find this all very unlikely.

Not only did I telephone Blackadder, but as you'll recall,

we sent him a telegram and a carrier pigeon.

Did you?

Are you telling us you haven't had a pigeon, Blackadder?

Er...

Come on, man, you must have done.

I sent our top bird, Speckled Jim.

My own true love, who's been with me since I was a nipper.

It's a business.

I'm giving you your order to advance now.

Synchronise watches, gentlemen.

Private, what is the time?

We didn't receive any messages

and Captain Blackadder definitely did not shoot

this delicious, plump-breasted pigeon, sir.

What?

Do you want to be cremated, Baldrick, or buried at sea?

Erm...

- Lieutenant. - Sir.

- Do you mind answering some questions? - Not at all, sir.

We didn't get any messages

and Captain Blackadder definitely did not shoot

this delicious, plump-breasted pigeon.

Thanks, George.

And look, sir. Pigeon feathers.

White feathers. Very apt, eh, Blackadder.

White feathers?

Oh, no, sir, that's gobble-a-duke.

They're not white, they're sort of speckly.

Speckly! (YELLS)

You shot my Speckled Jim!

You're for it now, Blackadder.

Quite frankly, sir,

I've suspected this for some time. Quite clearly,

Captain Blackadder has been disobeying orders

with a breathtaking impertinence.

I don't care if he's been rogering the Duke of York

with a prize-winning leek.

(SHOUTING) He shot my pigeon! (EXCLAIMING)

Easy, sir! Easy, sir! Take it easy, sir.

I think we should do this by the books, sir.

Yes! You're right, of course. I'm...

I'm sorry.

Take attention!

Captain Blackadder, as of this moment, you may consider yourself under arrest.

You know what the penalty is for disobeying orders, Blackadder?

Erm...

Court martial followed by immediate cessation of chocolate rations?

No. Court martial followed by immediate death by firing squad.

Oh! So I got it half right.

All settled in and happy, are we then, sir?

Written all our last goodbyes?

Oh, no need for that, Perkins. I've just dashed off a couple of notes.

One asking for a sponge bag, and the other, sending for my lawyer.

Oh, your lawyer, yes, sir.

Now, don't you think that might be a bit of a waste of money, sir?

Not when he's the finest mind in English legal history.

Ever heard of Bob Massingberd?

Oh, yes indeed, sir, a most gifted gentleman.

Right, I remember Massingberd's most famous case.

The case of the bloody knife.

A man was found next to a murdered body.

He had the knife in his hand,

thirteen witnesses had seen him stab the victim,

and when the police arrived, he said,

"I'm glad I killed the bastard.”

Massingberd not only got him off,

he got him knighted in the New Year's Honours list,

and the relatives of the victim

had to pay to have the blood washed out of his jacket.

And he's a dab hand at the prosecution, as well, sir.

Yes, well look at Oscar Wilde.

Ol' Butch Oscar.

A big-bearded, bonking, Butch Oscar.

The terror of the ladies, 114 illegitimate children.

World heavyweight boxing champion

and author of the bestselling pamphlet "Why I Like To Do It With Girls".

And Massingberd had him sent down for being a whoopsy.

Ah, Baldrick, anything from Massingberd yet?

Yes, sir. Just arrived, sir.

- What is it? - A sponge bag, sir.

- A sponge bag? - Yes, sir.

Baldrick, I gave you two notes.

You sent the note asking for a sponge bag

to the finest mind in English legal history.

Certainly did, sir.

And you sent the note requesting legal representation to...

Well, tally-ho with a bing and a bong and a buzz, buzz, buzz!

Oh, God!

I'll tell you first of all, sir, I am deeply, deeply honoured.

Baldrick, I'll deal with you later.

Am I to understand that you are going to represent me at the court martial?

Absolutely, sir.

Well, it's a sort of family tradition, really.

My uncle's a lawyer, you know.

Your uncle's a lawyer, but you're not.

Oh, good Lord, no.

I'm an absolute duffer at this sort of thing, no.

In the school debating society

I was voted the boy least likely to complete a coherent...

- Sentence? - That's it. Yes, yes.

But anyway, my dear old friend, it's an honour to serve.

George, I'm in deep trouble here.

I need to construct a case that's as water-tight as a mermaid's brassier.

I'm not sure your particular brand of mindless optimism

is going to contribute much to the proceedings.

Well that's a shame, sir, because I was planning on

playing the mindless optimism card pretty strongly during your trial.

I beg your pardon?

Yes, I've already planned my closing address based on that very theme.

Oh, go on. Let him off, Your Honour, please.

After all, it's a lovely day, pretty clouds, trees, birds etc.

I rest my case.

So, Counsel, with that summing-up in mind,

what do you think my chances are?

Well, not all that good I'm afraid.

As far as I can tell you're as guilty as a puppy sitting next to a pile of poo.

Charming.

Crikey! So sorry I'm late, m'lud.

(CLEARS THROAT)

But anyway let me open my defence straight away

by saying that I've known this man for three years.

He's an absolutely corking chap.

- George? - Yes, sir?

That's the clerk of the court.

Is it? Oh.

We haven't started yet.

- Good luck, Blackadder. - Thank you, Darling.

And what's your big job here today? Straightening chairs?

No. In fact, I'm appearing for the prosecution.

I wouldn't raise your hopes too much,

you're as guilty as hell, you haven't got a chance.

Why, thank you, Darling.

And I hope your mother dies in a freak yachting accident.

Just doing my job, Blackadder. Obeying orders.

And of course having enormous fun into the bargain.

I wouldn't be too confident if I were you.

Any reasonably impartial judge is bound to let me off.

Well, absolutely.

Who is the judge, by the way?

MELCHETT: Hey!

I'm dead!

Come on, then, come on. Let's get this over in five minutes.

We can have a spot of lunch.

Right! Ooh. Ah.

The court is now in session,

General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett in the chair.

The case before us is that of the Crown versus Captain Edmund Blackadder,

the Flanders pigeon murderer.

Oh, Clerk, hand me the black cap, shall you. I'll be needing that.

Thank you.

I love a fair trial.

Anything to say, before we kick off, Captain Darling?

May it please the court.

As this is clearly an open-and-shut case,

I beg leave to bring a private prosecution against the defence counsel

for wasting the court's time.

Granted. The defence counsel is fined £50 for turning up.

This is fun! This is just like a real court.

Right, let the trial begin.

The charge before us is that the Flanders pigeon murderer

did deliberately, callously, and with beastliness of forethought,

murder a lovely, innocent pigeon...

And disobeyed some orders as well.

Is this true?

Perfectly true, sir. I was there.

Thanks, George.

Damn! Damn!

Right. Counsel for the defence, get on with it.

Oh, right, yes, yes! Right, yes.

I'd like to call my first witness, Captain Darling.

You wish to call the counsel for the prosecution

as a defence witness?

That's right.

Don't worry, sir. I've got it all under control.

(CLEARS THROAT) You are Captain Darling of the General's staff?

Iam.

Captain, leaving aside the incident in question,

would you think of Captain Blackadder as the sort of man who would

usually ignore orders?

Yes, I would.

Ah... Erm...

You sure? I was rather banking on you saying "no" there.

I'm sure.

In fact, I have a list of other orders he's disobeyed, if it would be useful.

May the 16th, 9:15 a.m.

10:23 a.m., 10:24 a.m. 11:17 a.m...

- You missed one out there. - 10:30 a.m., thank you. 11:46 a.m.

- George! - Oh, yes. Thank you, Captain!

No further questions.

Well done, George. You really had him on the ropes there!

Don't worry, old man, I have a last,

and, I think you'll find, decisive, witness.

Call Private Baldrick!

CLERK: Call Private Baldrick...

Deny everything, Baldrick!

Are you Private Baldrick?

No!

Oh, erm...

But you are Captain Blackadder's batman?

No!

Come on, Baldrick, be a bit more helpful. It's me.

No, it isn't!

- Sir, I must protest! - Quite right.

- We don't need your kind here, Private. - Get out.

Now George, sum up, please.

Oh, right, yes.

All right. (CLEARS THROAT) Thanks.

Gentleman, you have heard all the evidence presented before you today,

but in the end it is up to the conscience of your hearts to decide.

And I firmly believe that, like me,

you will conclude that Captain Blackadder

is in fact totally and utterly guilty!

Of nothing more

than trying to do his duty under difficult circumstances.

Nonsense! He's a hound and a rotter and he's going to be shot.

However before we proceed

to the formality of sentencing the deceased,

I mean the defendant!

(LAUGHING)

I think we'd all rather enjoy hearing the case of the prosecution.

Captain Darling, if you please.

Sir, my case is very simple. I call my first witness,

General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett.

Ah, hmm.

Clever! Clever!

General, did you own a lovely, plump, speckly pigeon

- called Speckled Jim, which you hand-reared from a chick,

and which was your only childhood friend?

Yes! Yes, I did.

And did Captain Blackadder shoot the aforementioned pigeon?

Yes, he did!

Can you see Captain Blackadder anywhere in this courtroom?

That's him. That's him. That's the man. Ahhh!

No more questions, sir.

Splendid! Excellent! First class! Well done.

I therefore have absolutely no hesitation

in announcing that the sentence of this court is

that you, Captain Edmund Blackadder, be taken from this place

and suffer death by shooting tomorrow at dawn.

Do you have anything to say?

Yes, could I have an alarm call, please?

Chappy to see you, Captain!

- What does he look like? - Short, ugly...

Hello, Baldrick.

I've brought you some food, sir, for your final breakfast tomorrow.

Ah, so you're not pinning much hope on a last minute reprieve, then!

No sir, you are as dead as some doo-doos.

The expression, Baldrick, is "as a dodo". "Dead as a dodo".

Well, I'll leave you to it, then, shall I?

Do not despair, sir.

All my talk of food was just a dead herring.

In fact, I have a cunning plan.

This is not food, but an escape kit!

Good Lord!

With a saw, a hammer, a chisel, a gun, a change of clothes, a Swiss passport

and a huge false moustache, I may just stand a chance!

Ah.

Let's see. What have we here?

A small, painted wooden duck!

Yeah.

I thought if you get caught near water,

you can balance it on the top of your head as a brilliant disguise.

Yes. I would of course have to escape first.

Ah, but what's this?

Unless I'm much mistaken, a hammer and chisel.

You are much mistaken.

A pencil and a miniature trumpet!

A pencil so you can drop me a postcard to tell me how the breakout went,

and a small little tiny miniature trumpet in case, during your escape,

you have to win favour with a difficult child.

Baldrick, I don't want to spend my last precious hours

rummaging through this feeble collection of stocking-fillers.

Let me just ask you some simple questions.

Is there a saw in this bag?

- No. - A hammer?

- No. - A chisel?

- No. - A gun?

- No. - A false passport?

No.

A change of clothes?

Yes, sir! Of course, I wouldn't forget a change of clothes!

Well, that's something. Let's see.

A Robin Hood costume!

Yeah, I put in a French peasant's outfit at first.

But then I thought what if you arrive in a French peasants' village

and they're in the middle of a fancy dress party.

And what if I arrive in a French peasant village dressed in a Robin Hood costume

and there isn't a fancy dress party?

Well, to be quite frank, sir, I didn't consider that, eventuality

because if you did, you'd stick out like a...

Like a man standing in a lake with a small painted wooden duck on his head?

Exactly.

- Excuse me, sir. - Ah, right, um...

Thank you, Baldrick. We'll finish this picnic later.

Yum! Yum!

Do you mind if I disturb you for a moment, sir?

No, no. Not at all, my diary's pretty empty this week!

Let's see, Thursday morning, "Get shot."

Yes, that's about it actually!

Oh, good. It's just, there's a few chaps out here would like a bit of a chin-wag.

Ah, lovely, always keen to meet new people.

Corporal Jones and Privates Fraser, Robinson and Tipplewick.

- Hello, Private. - Hello.

- Hello. - Hello.

Well, nice of you to drop by!

And what do you do?

(ALL CHUCKLE)

We're your firing squad, sir.

Of course you are.

- Good size chest! Sir. - Shut up, lad.

You see us firing squads are a bit like taxmen, sir.

Everyone hates us, but we're just doing our job. Aren't we lads?

My heart bleeds for you!

Well, sir, we aim to please!

(ALL LAUGHING)

Just a little firing squad joke there, sir!

You see, sir, we take pride in the terminatory service we supply.

So, is there any particular area you'd like us to go for?

We can aim anywhere.

Well, in that case just above my head might be a good spot.

(ALL LAUGHING)

You see! A laugh and a smile,

and all of a sudden the job doesn't seem quite so bad after all, does it, sir?

It's a lovely roomy forehead! Good pulsing jugular, there as well.

Look, I'm sorry I know you mean to be friendly

but I hope you don't take it amiss if I ask you to sod off and die.

FIRING SQUAD: Ooh!

No, no, no, no, no, fair enough!

Of course not, sir.

No one likes being shot first thing in the morning. Do they?

No, no.

So look forward to seeing you tomorrow, sir.

You'll have a blindfold on of course, but you'll recognise me.

I'm the one that says, "Ready, aim, fire."

Could I ask you to leave a pause between the word "aim" and the word "fire"?

Thirty or 40 years perhaps?

(ALL LAUGHING)

That's a funny man!

I wish I could pause, sir.

I really wish I could, but I can't you see.

Cause I'm a gabbler, me, you see.

(RAPIDLY) Ready, aim, fire. See?

No style, no finesse. But, you know, it gets the job done, doesn't it, lads?

Come on, lads!

Whoever gets closest to the mole gets to keep his gold teeth!

Good night, sir.

Sleep well, sir!

Perfect. I wonder if anything on earth could depress me more.

- Excuse me, sir! - Of course it could!

I forgot to give you this letter from Lieutenant George, sir.

Oh, joy! What wise words from the world's greatest defence counsel?

"Dear Mother".

Unusual start! "Thanks for the case of scotch"

You've excelled yourself, Baldrick.

You've brought the wrong letter again!

Cor, yeah! He did write two!

Yes, his mother's about to get a note

telling her he's sorry she's going to be shot in the morning.

While I have to read this drivel.

"Hope Celia thrives in the Pony Club trials

"and that little Freddy scores a century for the first 11."

You can't deny it's a riveting read.

"Send my love to Uncle Rupert, who'd have thought it?

"Mad Uncle Rupert, Minister of War,

"with power of life and death over every bally soldier in the Army!"

Hang on a minute! This is it!

All George has to do is send him a telegram and he'll get me off!

Baldrick, I love you!

I want to kiss your cherry lips and nibble your shell-like ears!

I'm free!

- I'm useless! Useless! - Sir! Sir!

- Hello, Private, how's the captain? - He's absolutely fine, sir.

You're just trying to cheer me up. I know the truth.

He hates me because I completely arsed up his defence.

- Yes, I know, sir, but... - Because I'm thick you see.

I'm as thick as the big print version of the complete works of Charles Dickens!

- But... - If only I could have saved him!

- But you can, sir! - What? How?

You send a telegram!

Of course! I send a telegram!

- Yeah. - Who to?

- To the person in the letter. - What letter?

- To your mother. - I send a telegram to my mother!

- No. - No.

You send a telegram to the person in the letter to your mother.

Well who is in the letter to my mother?

- I can't remember! - Well, think, think!

- No, you think, think! - Well, I...

Celia! Of course! The Pony Club Trials! Yes!

Celia could leap over the walls of the prison and save him!

- No! No? No! No! - Um... Cricket!

Yes. I've got cousin Freddy, of course!

He could knock out the firing squad with his cricket bat!

- No, someone else! - Well, who?

- I don't know! - Well, neither do I.

- Well, think, think! - You think!

- You think, sir. - I'm stuck!

Stuck? Fine.

- No, it hasn't helped. - Yes it has, sir.

Your Uncle Rupert, who's just been made Minister of War!

Of course! Uncle Rupert's just been made the Minister of War!

Baldrick, I'll send him a telegram and he'll pull strings and scratch backs

and fiddle with knobs and...

And get the captain off!

Hurray!

We got there in the end, eh, Baldrick!

Just about, sir!

I think this calls for a celebration, don't you?

What about a tot of Old Moorhen's Shredded Sporran, which Mumsy sent.

I think a toast, don't you? To Captain Blackadder and freedom.

Captain Blackadder and freedom, sir!

- Morning! - Good morning, sir!

I must say, Captain, I've got to admire your balls.

Perhaps later.

So, boys, how are you doing?

- Very well. - Very well.

- Robinson, good to see you! - Good to see you too, sir!

Corporal, how's the voice?

Excellent, sir. (RAPIDLY) Ready, aim, fire! Wait for it! Wait for it!

So the phone's on the hook, isn't it, Perkins?

Oh, yes, sir.

Splendid. So! Where do you want me?

Well up against the wall is traditional, sir!

Of course it is. This side or the other side?

(ALL LAUGHING)

No messengers waiting, Perkins?

- I'm afraid not, sir. - Fair enough, fair enough.

All right lads, line up...

Yes, now look, I think there might have been a bit of a misunderstanding here.

You see, I was expecting, a telegram.

- Attention! - Quite an important one, actually.

Take aim!

Stop!

I think that's what they call "the nick of time"!

- Message for you, Captain! - Of course it is, read it, please.

"Here's looking at you!

"Love from all the boys in the firing squad.”

You soft bastards, you.

I saw a card I couldn't resist it!

- How thoughtful. - Attention!

Now look, something has gone spectacularly badly wrong.

- Take aim! - Baldrick, you're mincemeat.

Oh, my head! Oh, my head!

It feels like the time I was initiated

into the Silly Buggers Society at Cambridge.

I misheard the rules and pushed a whole aubergine into my ear hole.

Permission to die, sir.

What started us drinking?

Oh, yes. We were celebrating getting Captain Blackadder off scot-free...

Oh, my sainted trousers! We forgot!

- Oh, whoops. - Oh, now he's dead, you see!

He's dead, dead, dead, because we're a pair of selfish so-and-sos.

Oh, God, If I had a rope

I'd put it around my neck and bally well hang myself until it really hurt.

Morning, George. Morning, Baldrick.

Still a striking resemblance to guppy fish at feeding time.

Yep, it arrived in the nick of time.

Oh, excellent!

So you've got the scotch out anyway.

Well, of course, sir.

Yes, we wanted to lay on a bit of a bash for your safe return.

There you go. (LAUGHS)

There was a second telegram arrived, actually George,

addressed to you personally from your uncle.

Oh, thank you...

"George, my boy. Outraged to read in dispatches

"of how that arse Melchett made such a pig's ear

"of your chum Blackadder's court martial.”

"I've reversed the decision forthwith."

"Surprised you didn't ask me to do it yourself, actually.”

Now, this is interesting, isn't it?

Yes, well you see, sir. The thing is...

You two got whammed last night didn't you?

(STAMMERS) Well, not whammed, exactly! A little tiddly, perhaps.

And you forgot the telegram to your uncle!

Well, no, not completely. I mean, partially. Erm...

Well, yes, yes entirely, yes.

I think I can explain, sir...

Can you, Baldrick?

No.

As I suspected!

Now I'm not a religious man, as you know, but henceforth,

I shall nightly pray to the God that killed Cain and squashed Samson

that he comes out of retirement and gets back in to practice on the pair of you!

(PHONE RINGS)

Captain Blackadder. Ah, Captain Darling!

Well, you know, some of us just have friends in high places, I suppose.

Yes, I can hear you perfectly.

You want what?

You want two volunteers for a mission into no man's land?

Code name, Operation Certain Death?

Yes. Yes I think I have just the fellows.

God is very quick these days!